


Baby Book

by rui_aya



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Baby, Cute, Fluff, Short, Vegeta is being stubborn, old, really old, son/father bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rui_aya/pseuds/rui_aya
Summary: The future Trunks has a favor to ask from a hard headed Sayian, and no real way to ask. ((SUPER OLD story of mine))





	Baby Book

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Okay, if this idea has been done before sorry! But there are like thousands upon thousands stories and I don’t read that much fan fiction. AND I don’t really care much for FLAMES so don’t leave them in the review. Just let the silence speak for itself. This is the “softer side” of one of the character that may or may not exist. Most of my info I pick up from websites and fan fiction, what I have read of it, so hope you enjoy!</

He thumped the book against the palm of his hand.

As long as he’d been in this timeline, he just couldn’t answer one simple question. Not able to do it the last time he had ‘visited’ the young man was bound and determined to get the question answered. But it was difficult to do something that required courage enough to demand to know what was left behind for him to ‘cherish’.

Did he really have to know what it read?

The boy grimaced as he flipped the pages until he got to the carefully written note that no one, except the person who wrote it, could read. Not because of the horrible penmanship, quiet the opposite, the symbols were written very clearly and with a beauty that allowed the person to know distinctly ever character depicted. Only problem was, it wasn’t in Japanese or English, or any other language on the Earth.

It was in Saiyjin.

And to Trunks’ knowledge, there was only one person in the world ((probably the universe)) who could read what had been written. The pages of his book, the only link to his dead father in his timeline, were yellowed with age, as the once pink cover was smudged with blood and dirt. He wasn’t afraid of rejection of asking this Vegeta to translate it to him; it was more or less the fear of what the message actually held within the secret text.

Since he was thirteen, when the book had been given to him by his mother, he’d make up what it read. Some good, the majority of the thoughts were degrading. From what little he was able to learn about his Father from his mom, and from being stuck with him for a year while training, Trunks’ idea of a ‘nice’ message were materially damaged.

Closing the book again, he flung it on his bed.

It wasn’t that important! What was it Gohan had told him? Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease. In this case, another blow to what a failure he was to the high-and-mighty Vegeta would be more than he could stand.

Sitting near the desk, the young man drummed his fingers along the wooden surface. He was leaving tomorrow, and it would be the last time he’d ever get the chance to have a certain Prince translate a certain phrase. Trunks almost was able to push it out of his mind as a no win situation, until he remembered someone else back ‘home’ asking him to tell.

His mother. She’d always pondered about it, even tried several ways of getting her machines to decode what it was but all lead to dead ends. The genius had joked that only Vegeta would leave the one thing she couldn’t figure out. Mom wanted to know...NEEDED to know. Why? Probably to see if it had something to do with the way the ‘dumb ass Saiyan’ felt about her, or at least, their son.

Damn.

* * *

“It won’t kill you to write _something_!” Bulma stressed in a barely civil tone. She was ready to kill from the sound of her pressed voice. Trunks drifted from the staircase to the kitchen entrance as quietly as he could. If being half Saiyain left his hearing super-sensitive, there was no telling what Vegeta’s was like.

“I won’t,” Vegeta roughly replied. “It’s another stupid human tradition, and I’ve had my take of them.”

“It’s not stupid, and not _everyone_ on this planet does it! What is wrong with just writing something in it? Who knows, your next fight could be your last!” Bulma paused, “Do  _not_ look at me like that! I’m serious! Sign your name, if that’s too complicated then draw a picture!  _Something_ is better than _nothing_!”

There was a loud thump, and seconds later an angry scientist hit the kitchen door opened and stormed past her son.

“Mom?”

“Excuse me, Trunks, but I have to go dissemble something,” she growled, heading in the direction of her lab.

The lavender boy hair shrugged, and gently nudged open the door to the kitchen. Vegeta was standing, leaned against the wall near the window, his arms folded, his eyes narrowed upon the door as the ‘boy’ entered. Grunting, the Prince flicked his eyes between the book and the boy.

“Don’t eavesdrop on my conversations.” Vegeta stated in a firm tone, “And learn to be silent when you try.”

Trunks’ eyes widened in shock briefly before narrowing them and nodding mutely. “What’s that?” he asked, stepping closer to the table.

“Hmph, the woman called it a ‘baby book’.”

_Yes_! Trunks’ brightened momentarily; Vegeta noticed this and hiked an eyebrow at the sudden mode swing.

“Are you going to write anything in it?” He attempted to be nonchalant about it, but it was a failed attempt.

“You’re too much like your mother, you let your weak emotions show in everything.” Trunks’ shrugged the comment off, and went to the refrigerator. Opening it up he ducked his head to inspect the contents, and felt a smile tug on his lips as a chair scrapped lightly against the floor. Maybe this was the time to ask him or at least persuade him to write something. Grabbing a coke, he quickly joined Vegeta at the table and sat opposite of him.

Sipping the drink, he watched through the corner of his eye as the man seemed to have a mental battle. Even staring at the book made his face twist in slight—what? Disgust? Astonishment? Why did everything about this man have to reflect complication? His own dirty and aged baby book was inside his zipped up jacket. Unconscious of what he was doing, the young man drummed his fingers against it.

“Feh,” Vegeta pushed the pink book further away from him, a discontented scowl painting his features as he turned his face away from the offending thing.

Maybe today wasn’t such a great day to ask. Was it really _that_ important?

“What are you staring at, boy?”

“Uh,” was the entire reply at first from the lavender haired boy. After a while, a brilliant idea popped into his mind. “Are you ever going to teach _your_ Trunks Saiyjin?”

This caught his Father off guard, his eyebrow quirked slightly as he stared at the blue eyed boy that sat in front of him.

“Maybe.” Vegeta’s left eyebrow twitched slightly, voicing an unspoken question of ‘Why?’.

Trunks smirked, so that’s where he got that habit. “Maybe? Do you even remember it?” He was treading on dangerous ground at the moment, and he was very aware of it.

“Of course I remember it!” The black hair man snapped. “I’m not as forgetful as Kakorott.”

“Then why don’t you write in the baby book in your language. Mom won’t be able to read it then, if that’s why you're not going to do it,” Trunks suggested.

“I’m not that dense, I know I can do that. But do you have any idea how long she’d harp at me for doing it?” Vegeta paused, “Besides, what would I have to say to you.”

Perfect.

“Here, this might give you a suggestion.” The time displaced young man unzipped his jacket, and carefully removed the older, dirtier version of the book and placed it by its twin. “You wrote something in this one. Something that no one has been able to figure out.”

Grabbing his coke, he turned and left. Perhaps---maybe Vegeta would ----nah, better not jinx it.

* * *

Bulma had her future son in a death grip, as baby Trunks cooed and played beside them.

“Be good,” the scientist sniffed as she let go of her son and scooped to pick up her baby, “for your mother’s sake at least.”

“I will.” Trunks nodded and then smiled at the younger lady. Ruffling his young self’s hair, little Trunks growled and tried to grab the offending hand.

All of Trunks’ friends and fellow fighters came out to see him home. The time machine hummed behind the group as they exchanged their good-byes, jokes, and smiles. All except Vegeta, which was to be expected by most. Bulma had grumbled an apology to their son about the stubborn will of the idiot she called her ‘husband’.

Trunks had shrugged it off, saying he knew why the mighty annoying Prince chose to keep his distance. Whatever the baby book had read must have upset the heartless man, or something. When the blue eyed young man went in hunt for his treasured book, it was no where to be found. Not in the labs, or in the house, or even in the gravity room. Nowhere.

Trunks felt his heart fall a bit in realization that his father of this time had probably destroyed the book without a second thought since Vegeta always deemed human traditions as weak.

So, with heavy heart, and a smile to hide the pain, Trunks climbed into his capsule and waved cheerfully to the people who had become so dear to him. Vegeta, leaning on a far off tree made his presence known, and only gave a simple two-finger salute to his son.

It was better than nothing, the young man weighed. Typing in the correct codes and flipping everything that needed to be flipped, the young man disappeared into the time rift once more.

Sighing discontentedly, the lavender haired boy noticed a new thing within his pod. Freeing the package from behind the main control panels, and took a slim, stained pink baby book from its brown packaging.

Had Vegeta..?

Opening the worn book, a simple and folded piece of paper fluttered from the pages and into Trunks lap. With anxious hands, the young man opened the note, and began to read. The sentences were short, but the words were eloquently written both in meaning and in penmanship.

As he read, and reread the note, Trunks was at a lost for words. Falling back into his seat, all he could do was stare at the simplest word that many take for granted. Something Trunks never associated with his father, nor did his mother. It was the one word able to lay his fears at rest. As the whole letter was melted into Trunks brain, he smiled.

_Your mother’s foolishness must be effecting me. I will protect both of you, will train and teach you in the ways of your heritage. I will fight to my death when it comes to what is mine. You are mine, as is your mother. No one takes my family away. Pride and honor are the two greatest things a Saiyan can posses. I have a son, and that is something I thought I would never possess._

-Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans.


End file.
